


Born and Bred Black and Red

by firelord65



Series: Holiday Fic Prompt Contest Fics [4]
Category: Divergent (Movies), Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M, Fear Simulations, Kissing, Panic Attacks, Prompt Fill, canon-divergent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 04:51:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7345642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firelord65/pseuds/firelord65
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tris' conversation with her mother piques the attention of Eric, notoriously curious Dauntless Leader. Fascinated with the concept that Tris' Dauntless heritage may make her better at them, Eric gives Tris a preview of the fear simulations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Born and Bred Black and Red

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1in100authors](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=1in100authors).



> Whew. It’s been a while since I’ve written a oneshot. Hope that it still lives up to the standards that my longfics have established! This is the second of three oneshots that people requested back in December (suuuuper sorry about how late this is).
> 
> Prompt- Eric finds out about Tris’s divergence while giving her a preview into the simulations the day before she’s supposed to start them with her ‘class’. (I want to see his reaction.) 1in100Authors on FF.net
> 
> The setting for this fic can be assumed to be an offshoot of Prove It; specifically the events of chapter 13 are “canon”. If you haven’t read Prove It, basically Tris ended up on Eric’s CTF team and they did a lot of rooftop jumping during the conflict. Same disclosure as with that fic: I haven’t double checked all the facts presented here with actual novel canon and I take full artistic liberty.

**** I never thought I would have a good time to use the word “trepidatious” or that there would be a time in my life where it would be the only way to explain how I felt. Yet here I was, walking from the cafeteria to the Pit while my stomach worked itself into knots and the very air felt too cold on my skin. I hadn’t finished my scone from how tumultuous my gut felt and the pastry was slowly fusing to my hand. 

It was Visiting Day and I had no idea how I was going to deal with my family. 

With all the training and everything that was happening in Initiation, I hadn’t thought too much about what my parents would actually say to me. After the Choosing Ceremony I didn’t get the chance to speak with them, even just to say goodbye. When I woke up this morning, all I could see was my father’s barely-contained anger and my mother’s mournful expression. I needed to explain to them that I hadn’t left them out of spite or fear. 

I had no idea how I was going to do that. Betraying my family after watching Caleb do the very same thing was unforgivable. There just weren’t words to justify it. I was a traitor. 

The cacophony coming from the Pit was enough to pull me from the endless circle of self-doubt and worry. It wasn’t full - far from it - but there was still a good mass of adults and kids alike all clustered together talking loudly and eagerly with one another. I spied black and white jackets of Candor justices mixed with the deep navy coats of Erudite researchers among the normal black leather and denim attire of Dauntless. 

My heart sank as I scanned the crowd. I hadn’t considered that my family had been hurt so much that they wouldn’t even show up for the event. My worries had been so focused on what I would say to make up for my betrayal that I totally ignored the chance that they wouldn’t come at all.

Christina darted away from me with a cheer, dragging Will behind her as she rushed down the steps towards an uncomfortable looking Candor couple. Her parents, I assumed. 

I swallowed back a bitter taste in my mouth. Still, I was here. I might as well mingle and get to meet the families of my new friends. Rather than continue standing silently, I focused on my one remaining friend. “See anyone you know?” I asked Al. Of course he hadn’t followed Christina. Why would he do that when he could instead be glued to my side?

The tall boy nodded quickly. “My dad’s down there. He looks mad,” Al said quietly. “Why do you think he’s mad?”

Somewhere in me is a very nice, very polite Abnegation girl. I swear it. “Because you’re a traitor, just like the rest of us? You left your family behind for an entirely different life,” I replied curtly. “Come on. At least go talk to him and show off how great you’re doing. You can have the rest of my scone, too. I lost my appetite.”

Al blinked owlishly, taking the chocolate-filled pastry before I started nudging him quickly down the stone steps. “Just be happy you had family come visit you,” I grumbled under my breath. “No matter how mad they look.”

I didn’t end up following him to meet his father, though. My attention was captured by a woman in a grey dress carrying on loudly in a circle of Dauntless officers. My feet carried me towards her even as I gaped in awe. My mother was here, in Dauntless, laughing and teasing with a group of the toughest faction members I’d seen. 

She was alone, I noted in the back of my mind. I suppose I wasn’t surprised with how furious my father must have been, but I still couldn’t believe that she was here in my new home. And thriving from the looks of it. 

“Mom?” I called out, standing just outside the circle of people. She stopped with whatever she had been saying, hands still hanging in the air from whatever point she’d been making. 

“Beatrice!” she greeted cheerfully. “I’m so glad to see you, dear!” The circle around her broke up quickly enough, exchanging glances with one another and offering my mother farewells. She smiled politely and said goodbye to everyone who spoke to her - ever the perfect Abnegation woman - before she took me into her arms.

I never cherished a hug quite so much as I did that one. I wrapped my arms around my mother and squeezed my eyes shut, just taking in the warmth and love.

_ My mother came to visit me _ .

_ My mother still loved me. _

“Beatrice, you look so strong and brave,” she whispered, her breath tickling my ear. 

I gave her one last squeeze and let go. It would be selfish to keep the embrace going any longer. “Actually,” I replied quietly, uncertain, “it’s just Tris now.” I watched her carefully, fearful that this would be the final straw, the last step of my betrayal. 

My mother looked me up and down. Her sharp eyes certainly didn’t miss the trio of ravens tracing across my chest or how I stood tall and proud in my self-bought boots. “Well, of course you are.  _ Tris _ , you look so at home here,” she whispered, her voice feather-light with some unspoken emotion. 

The tears that prickled at the edge of my eyes surprised me, but I fought to keep myself composed. After all, it wasn’t very Dauntless to cry when your mother just said your name. “Thanks,” I choked out. “It’s been interesting, but I’m... I’m doing well.”

She smiled, her head tilting just so as she did. “You do our family proud.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I reverted back to old habits. “How are you and father doing?” I asked. “I keep hearing things from the news…”

“We don’t have to talk about that,” my mother said, waving a hand dismissively. “Today we can talk about you. And besides, you don’t need to worry about your father. It’s a parent’s job to worry about their children, not the other way around.”

I frowned. She might be right from a Dauntless point of view, but it rubbed against everything that had been drilled into me practically since birth. Every person took care of each other. That was a pillar of Abnegation, one not so easily cast aside.

“How are the challenges going? You look stronger than when you left,” she continued, true to her word. We didn’t speak about father or even about her own well being for the rest of the conversation. 

The initiation challenges weren’t public knowledge, so I tried to answer her questions as honestly as possible without getting into specifics. She seemed worried when I mentioned being beaten a few times in different tests, but otherwise didn’t butt in. In fact, she was quite content to let me ramble on as much or as little as I desired.

It was nice.

“I actually got this-” I pointed to the ravens on my skin “- after the first day of training. It was important for me to do it. To show that I wasn’t just forgetting about you or dad or Caleb.” A thought crossed my mind and I cut my mother off before she could comment about the tattoo.

“Have you gone to see Caleb? How is he?” I asked quickly, perhaps a bit more demanding than I should have. Thankfully, my mother didn’t look too insulted. Surprised, perhaps, but not hurt.

She answered truthfully, “I’m not sure. Erudite isn’t allowing anyone from Abnegation to visit. They’re taking their own reports to heart, unfortunately.”

I couldn’t believe it. It was a time-honored tradition that family members were allowed to see one another on Visiting Day, no matter what faction they came from or the current political tensions. I remembered a time when I was still in first levels where Dauntless and Amity were feuding over border control issues. Even then there was no ill will given to either faction when it came to Visiting Day. 

“So father isn’t… he’s not here and he’s not at Erudite seeing Caleb?” I asked. Truthfully, I had hoped that it wasn’t true, that my mother wasn’t going to tell me that my own father had chosen to remain at home rather than come and see the one child he was allowed to see.

The pity that filled my mother’s eyes was answer enough. “Your father is being selfish, Tris,” she said soothingly. It didn’t help, not when all I could see was his look of utter rage. Her insistence that it was his fault -  _ his fault? A Abnegation Leader at fault? _ \- and not mine was surprising.

“That’s not possible,” I replied automatically. “Father wouldn’t… that’s just not him.”

If my mother calling out my father for being selfish was surprising, it was nothing on what would happen next.

I’d been so focused on our conversation that I hadn’t been looking at the people around us. Another Dauntless veteran waved at my mother, a greeting on their lips. She shook her head slowly before pointedly putting her attention back on me, the traitor daughter she was visiting. 

“Your father,” she began to speak with a sigh. I wouldn’t hear what she thought of him for a while later as she was interrupted once more by another member of Dauntless. This time, though, they were all too familiar.

Eric bounced on his toes just to my side, an eager smile spread across his face. “Well color me surprised. The wife of city leadership here in my faction? To what do we owe the pleasure?” he asked. 

It was strange, seeing him interact with my mother. His usual snark was hidden behind a facade of polite curiosity. This was a side to Eric that I would never have guessed existed - the polite observer. 

I would bet my first stipend of points that he had been watching my mother the whole time. 

My mother extended a hand to the young Leader, surprising him and me alike. Handshakes weren’t done in Abnegation. Hell, I don’t think I ever saw my mother touch a man who wasn’t my father in my entire life. “I don’t believe we’ve met, so I’m afraid I’m at a disadvantage. You know who I am but I don’t know you. I’m visiting my daughter,” she replied. 

Eric recovered after a beat, returning the handshake between rapid blinks. “Tris is your daughter?” he asked. 

“No, one of the transfers from Candor is,” I interjected. Okay, it might not have been the best idea to be sassing him in front of my mother, but I just couldn’t resist.

He snorted a laugh before withdrawing his hand and putting it behind his back. “You must be… proud,” Eric said. His tone stung a bit, particularly after everything that I’d done so far in initiation. 

“Immensely,” my mother replied. The easygoing smile on her face was the polar opposite of the slowly-returning anxiety that was creeping through me. “Tris was just telling me how she and her friends made it through the first stage. I couldn’t be happier that she’s doing so well. Leadership here must be quite strong.” I suddenly didn’t believe her earlier remark about not knowing who Eric was.

I swear, if someone told me that Eric Coulter could smile without smirking, I would never have believed them. And yet, here was my mother making the most imposing Leader of the entire faction grin like a dependent at recess. “She’s tough. We’re expecting great things from her if she keeps it up,” he admitted. “And clearly she’s got the genes for it.”

My mother cleared her throat and looked away, staring up at the shops along the edges of the Pit. “Well, that doesn’t mean anything. She made her choice and that’s what matters,” she asserted quietly. 

My gaze switched between my mother and Eric, my mouth slowly opening even as my forehead furrowed. “You were… You transferred from Dauntless? Why didn’t you tell me?” I demanded. 

“Where we come from doesn’t matter. You pick your faction and you forget anything that came before it,” the boy next to me rumbled. A silence fell in the small circle. Our circle of traitors. 

The buzz of conversation around us echoed in my head, nonsensical and suddenly far, far too loud. 

My mother stirred and looked back at me. “You should listen to your Leader, Tris,” she murmured. It confirmed my suspicions before. Her words were barely audible over the cheerful, excited conversations going on around us. “He’s right. Visit us when you can, but don’t look back. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you.”

I opened my mouth to protest. I couldn’t just  _ forget _ about my family, no matter what faction I was in. My mother bundled me up in a hug, cutting off whatever rebuttal I had concocted. “I love you. Your father loves you, as does your brother,” she whispered. Something in her voice was off.

“I’m going to try and see Caleb, okay? You keep training and you win. Don’t you dare let your fears win. That’s an order.” Her voice cracked on the last word and I realized what was wrong. She was holding back tears, fighting to stay composed.

I hugged her back tightly, burrowing my face deep into the crook of her neck. I couldn’t let myself forget this. I could become selfish and cruel, forget everything the Abnegation had ever drilled into my head. I could not forget my mother’s embrace. 

I didn’t want to let go. Letting go felt like Choosing Day all over again, but I had to do it. I had to commit to my choice, to my new faction.

So I let go. My hands shook and I blinked back tears, but I managed to stand there and watch my mother weave her way up and out of the Pit. Somewhere, the Abnegation girl inside me was proud of my selflessness. But mostly, I just felt torn apart.

I remembered that I wasn’t standing there alone when Eric hummed a low note just behind me. My arms wrapped around my torso as I turned to look at my Leader.   
  


“You never said your mother was Dauntless,” he commented, his expression unreadable. 

I felt more so that consciously directed my fingers to drum against my ribcage. “I didn’t know,” I admitted. “She never told us. Never told me, at least.” Maybe Caleb had known. Or maybe he’d just lived his life and didn’t give any thought about where our parents were from. 

“She was just… Abnegation,” I said. 

Eric hummed again, deep in thought. “Interesting.” He didn’t elaborate and I wasn’t going to ask. He was a Leader. He didn’t owe anyone shit, and I respected that.

“Excuse me,” I murmured, pushing past him to retreat back up the stairs that I’d come down from. My whole mental plan for the day - what little I had planned - was entirely in flux. I needed to get out of the noise of the Pit and somewhere else to just absorb everything that had happened. Having Eric breathing down my neck wasn’t helping.

I made a beeline for the walkway that stretched over the chasm, but even that wasn’t deserted today. A Dauntless couple was there along with a cluster of much older Candor members. I caught enough of their conversation to realize the couple was planning on getting married. This was probably going to be the only heads up that their families would get before it happened. After all, it didn’t matter to your old faction that you got married, even if your parents and siblings still lived there.  _ Faction before blood.  _

Plan B was the dorms. As much as I hated the place - there was always a high chance to encounter Peter and his asshole friends - it would be a lot less populated than the rest of the complex. 

Plan B did not anticipate Al sitting on his bunk above mine, crumpled into a ball. So much for seeing his family. I tried to dive out of the doorway when I spotted him, but I wasn’t quick enough.

“Tris?” The voice that called out to me warbled and wavered. “Is that you?”

I had to count to five before walking back into the doorway. “Hey Al!” I responded, forcing myself to be as cheerful as possible. If I pretended everything was fine, maybe he would, too.

“What happened to visiting your dad?” I asked. “Was that not him?”

Al swung his legs over the edge and unfolded himself to a more normal position. Progress. “I couldn’t do it. I knew he would never be proud of me,” he said bitterly. “I would have just broken down right there and, well, that’s not very Dauntless.”

“Not really, no,” I grumbled under my breath. Clearing my throat, I shuffled further into the dorm. “Well, I wasn’t going to be here long. I just wanted to, uh, change my shirt and then I was going to see if Will and Christina would introduce me to their families.”

Al’s face fell. “Oh. So you’re not staying,” he said, crestfallen. I had to give him credit though as he pulled himself up by his bootstraps to plaster a smile on his face. “Before you go, will you just talk to me for another minute?”

Alarm bells coursed through my head and I stopped in my tracks. “Uhm, sure? What do you want to talk about?”

He slid off from his top bunk and shuffled awkwardly to stand in front of me. He was nervous, that was apparent, but not in his usual Al way. Whatever he was fearing was different than the typical danger of Dauntless training. 

“Tris,” he started. Al paused to lick his lips. His hands twisted around and around, wringing the edge of his shirt. “Do you... Do you like me? Because I’ve just, well, uhm.”

Good lord, he could barely get a sentence out. “I really like you. And not just, you know, as a friend.”

My face was either red as a sunset or paler than a sheet. I couldn’t say because frankly my brain had screeched to a halt. My mouth was dry, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I had to swallow several times to get up the ability to speak once more.

“Al, I don’t know what to say,” I admitted. Honesty was the only direction I could go in with the sheer awkwardness of the situation. “I’m… I’m not really attracted to you? Personally or, you know, physically?”

His face fell, hands halting their twisting. 

My mouth was on autopilot and now that I was talking, I couldn’t stop. “Like, you’re really nice and I’m  _ super _ happy that we’re friends.” Okay, so maybe I wasn’t being entirely honest. “But there’s just… I don’t feel the same way towards you? And I was hoping that you weren’t going to say anything or that I was imaging things, but I guess that’s not the case. I’m sorry,” I apologized.

Finally I reined my motor-mouth in and just stood there, waiting to see his response.

The tall boy blinked a few times. Gears turned in his head. Hopes were smashed and daydreams crushed under the weight of a few rambling sentences. “Oh,” was all he managed. 

Silence stretched between us and I counted my heartbeats in the openness between our words.

Was it my turn to talk again? Was he going to say anything else?

For once in Al’s entire time here in Dauntless, he actually confronted a situation head on. Literally. The boy stepped towards my frozen frame and ducked his head down to plant a sloppy, frantic kiss on my lips.

Electricity crackled and it wasn’t the kind that all the romance novels spoke of. It was a charge of energy, a force that rocketed me into action and lit pure fire in my veins. My hand curled and I let loose a punch that would keep the boy seeing stars for  _ days _ , slamming into his jaw with an audible  _ crack _ . 

Al stumbled backwards, cradling his jaw with both hands. His eyes were watering - from pain or embarrassment, I couldn’t tell. He whimpered, “Why did you do that?”

“What the everliving  _ fuck, _ Al?” I snarled. “What gives you the right?”

He only stared at me in sheer bewilderment and pain as I turned on a shaking heel and stormed out from the dorm. My feet carried me down a series of halls that I didn’t bother to pay attention to, shouldering past lingering Dauntless members with reckless energy.

I ended up at the motorpool, crouching inside one of the out-of-service trucks. My hands were shaking and I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs. Every breath wasn’t enough, couldn’t fill my chest. All that I could think about was how fast Al had moved and how utterly  _ intrusive _ it felt to have him touching me. No, not touching me. Kissing me.

Spots dotted the edges of my vision and I felt a whine escape my chest. A medical lesson from Four jumped unbidden into my mind. Warnings about hyperventilation and the dangers of falling prey to a nervous breakdown while in the field echoed around in my mind, joining the fray. 

“Prior?”

_ Oh god oh god ohgod someone was here someonewasseeingmebreakdown. _

“Jesus Christ, it is you. What’s wrong?”

I shook my head side to side. It only made things worse and the world narrowed to tiny, dizzying pinpricks. 

A red-headed and red-faced man bobbed in and out of focus. They took my hand, flipping it over to press a pair of fingers against my wrist. I flinched away from the contact and I’m ashamed to admit that I whimpered again. 

_ Leave me alone _ . I tried to speak it. It might have come out as a mumble or a slur. All I knew was that the last thing I wanted was another guy touching me.

“You’re fine, Prior. Absolutely fine. Just keep breathing. You been through phase two yet?”

I sucked in another deep breath and let out a high pitched whine.  _ No we hadn’t been through phase two yet, we only just barely finished phase one _ .

“I’m guessing that’s a no. Shit, where the fuck is Kyle when you need the idiot.”

I heard more so than saw the redhead move around. He didn’t get any closer to me, for which I was thankful. The sergeant settled in a few inches next to me. “Just keep breathing. You feel like the world is ending, and that’s totally normal.”

I squeezed my eyes shut until they hurt. I just wanted this to stop. I didn’t give a damn if this was normal or not.

The truck rocked underneath me and I realized that Richards was leaving. I wanted to reach out and grab him to stop him, but I couldn’t get him to stop dancing around in my vision. Just like that, I was alone in the truck again.

My fingers curled and released against the plate flooring, the bumps and seams scratching against me. The pain grounded me. I could feel the truck around me and when I opened my eyes again, the world felt less blurred. I still felt light headed and my breathing was ragged.

Even worse, I could still feel Al’s lips against my own.

I rubbed the back of my hand against my lips, frantic. I had to erase that feeling, needed to scrub it away with steel wool. 

“Shh shh shh,” Richards’ voice wafted from outside the truck. “You’re fine. Ow! Don’t claw me, you little jerk. Did Kyle teach you that?”

Hearing his voice returning sent a wave of relief through me. I’d honestly expected that he had left me for good to deal with my issues on my own. Instead, Richards hopped back into the truck and shuffled to where I sat in the back corner.

I was breathing quickly still, but it was between clenched teeth rather than huge gaping breaths. My heart jumped nervously when he leaned in towards me. I pressed as far back as I could go, the rear panel stabbing through my tank top. 

Richards deposited a ginger-colored blob onto my knees and rocked back onto his heels, adding as much distance as he could between us while still crouching. “This is Millie. Millie, say hi to Tris,” he said gently, gesturing to the furry creature I was now holding.

A tiny head turned to look up at me, impossibly blue eyes blinking sleepily. The kitten skittered backwards on my knee, apparently confused. “Mew?”

Richards carefully cupped his hand behind the kitten, keeping her from dropping onto the floor but still not touching my knee. “Millie’s just a few months old. She’s been hanging out in here with me, keeping me company,” he murmured. “Thought you might need it a bit more than I do.”

She mewed once more and began to look around my lap with renewed curiosity. I peeled one hand from the floor and extended it towards the tiny cat. Millie turned and sniffed my fingertips. I must have passed her sniff test as she rubbed her cheek quickly against me, mewing. 

If I wasn’t still hyperventilating, I would have smiled. She was adorable, a tiny ball of fur and unbridled eagerness. Once she’d exhausted smelling my hand, Millie staggered on uncertain paws to stand on my lap properly. Her front paws went up to press against my chest and she cried for more attention.

“Hey,” I croaked between huffs. She bobbed up and down with my breathing. I wanted to say something else, maybe tell the tiny creature just how adorable her teeny claws were even as they prickled my skin through my shirt, but I still didn’t trust my lungs to have enough air. Richards took pity on me, stepping in with the meaningless rumble of compliments to the cat.

“Millie is a cute little thing. She was the only girl in the whole litter, though I heard she was still beating up all her brothers. Isn’t that right, you tiny monster?” he crooned. He didn’t move to pet her, giving me a wide berth now that she wasn’t going to tumble to the ground. 

He didn’t ask any questions, either. Richards seemed quite content to perch on the floor of the truck and ramble about his kitten. I was equally happy to just sit, breathe, and give Millie as much attention as she wanted.

The kitten eventually curled up on my lap, a circle of fur with no end or beginning. She was so small in my lap, impossibly so. I stopped petting her for a moment, but that elicited a cry so pitiful that I was forced to continue. 

Millie’s purrs vibrated softly along my legs. It was only when she stretched and rolled onto her other side that I realized I had finally stopped hyperventilating. The orange cat laying content on my lap had totally wiped away any lingering panic. “Thanks,” I murmured. I didn’t look up at Richards.

He made a noise in his throat. “Don’t thank me. Millie’s the lifesaver,” he insisted with a chuckle. “Besides, you’re probably not going to be thanking me for reporting the incident to your instructor.”

I started, jerking my head up to glare at the redhead. “You did what?”

“What I’m supposed to do. Initiates can be… fragile,” Richards explained. “It’s expressly forbidden for me to just ignore the fact that I found a kid having a panic attack in the back of my truck.”

I snorted at being called a kid. I was sixteen. Old enough to pick my faction for the rest of my life. “So there’s no chance of me bribing you to get you not to make that call?” I asked. The bundle of fur in my lap sighed when I stroked her ears just so.

Richards shook his head. He at least had the decency to look slightly upset. “Not unless you have a time machine. I radioed it in to ops when I went to get Millie,” he said. With that, he looked down at his watch and frowned. “Actually, that was ages ago. I don’t understand why I haven’t heard anything back.”

“Because the shitheads in ops today are third rate, at best,” Eric growled from the doorway of the truck. “Terrible scheduling on top of Visiting Day nonsense.”

He turned to look at me, leaning in to the truck but not coming all the way in. “Initiate. Still with us, I see,” Eric said. “Breathing fine now? Not dizzy?”

It was difficult for me to judge if I should credit him with being particularly observant or just good at listening to what ops parroted back from Richards. I decided to ignore the dilemma and just answer him as calmly as possible. “Totally fine. I could run laps if I wanted to,” I blustered. “No need to write anything up about this. I’ve already forgotten myself.” 

Eric chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah and we’re gonna get an Amity transfer next Choosing,” he replied snarkily. He directed his attention back towards the sergeant. “If you can extract your beast from her, I’m going to take my initiate from here.”

My heart raced in my chest, but I fought to keep a calm exterior. Eric wasn’t going to let me worm my way out of whatever he needed to do. I could fight it and be the shitty initiate that everyone thought I was, or I could cooperate and get back to sulking on my own quickly. Richards moved to pick up his cat, though he still didn’t touch me. 

I gave him a small smile and mouthed thanks to him again while I carefully removed Millie - specifically, her claws - from my clothes and handed her up. 

I was very aware of Eric’s eyes on me as I stood up shakily and walked to the open doorway. He extended a hand for me to take as I jumped down, one that I ignored in favor of the nearest dangling strap. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything. 

“Where are we going?” I asked. “The training room?”

He just shook his head, a wry smile on his lips. “Not tonight. As much as I’d love to test to see if you really are fit to race, I’d rather not push it.”

Eric skirted around me and lead us out from the motor pool. The path back towards the elevators was familiar. The floor button he pushed on the panel was not. “You’re not taking me to the infirmary?” That was pretty much my only other guess as to where we were going.

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Do you need to go to the infirmary?” he asked. 

“Hell no.”

“That’s what I thought.”

The elevator continued to ascend, taking us up beyond the floors for the Pit and the dorms. When it finally stopped, the doors opened to a surprisingly bland hallway. Eric gestured for me to start walking and I moved into the hall, my hands securely in my shorts pockets. 

“Second room on your left,” he commanded, fishing something out of one of his multitude of pockets. “It should be locked.”

I tried the handle anyway and lo and behold the door opened up. Eric’s resulting exasperated expression was one that I would cherish for weeks to come. “You know what, I can’t even say I’m surprised,” he growled.

I stepped inside the room and immediately my stomach dropped. In the center was one of the chairs that had been used for Aptitude testing. A monitor stood next to it, along with one of those rolling stools that they had in the hospital rooms for the doctors to sit at. 

“What’s all this for?” I asked. My mouth went dry. “I already had my aptitude test.” Alarm bells were going off in the back of my mind. They knew. Somehow they’d found out I was Divergent. This was it. I turned around, though I knew there was no way Eric was letting me out of here.

He nodded and closed the door behind him. “Yeah, you got your aptitude test. And I’m sure you got Dauntless and it was all fine and dandy. That’s not all the testing software is good for though,” he explained. 

The blonde’s face softened. I must have been paler than a ghost, paler even than when Richards had found me in his truck. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing that you won’t be seeing soon enough anyways,” Eric said quickly.

“So why are you showing me? You love it when you get to surprise my friends and I,” I retorted. I hadn’t budged from where I stood, my arms crossed tightly over my chest. 

He laughed at that, smirking as he sat on the stool in front of the monitors. “You might be right about that, but it doesn’t matter. One initiate seeing the fear sims early isn’t going to kill the fun,” Eric teased. “There’ll still be plenty of Dauntless-born shitting themselves when they have to face their worst fears.”

His smirk unnerved me. Everything about this was unsettling. I’d barely recovered from a panic attack and here Eric was showing me, well, I still didn’t quite know what he meant by “fear sims” but from the name, it wasn’t a picnic in the park.

“Why are you showing me though?” I pressed. 

He just lifted his pierced eyebrow and looking pointedly at me, not responding. “Just get in the chair, Prior,” he ordered.

I shuffled my feet, wishing I wasn’t already crossing my arms. I couldn’t do much more to look more defiant. “Not until you tell me what this is all about.”

Eric tapped away on the keyboard for a moment. Then, he rolled from the monitor over to where I was standing. It was funny. The stool’s height made him a few inches shorter than I was and for once I got to look down on him. “I’m curious,” he admitted. His voice held none of the bravado from earlier. “Indulge me.”

I swallowed and tapped my fingers against my arm. On one hand, this was clearly  _ not _ normal. If it was, Eric wouldn’t have spirited me away up here completely without Four’s knowledge. That in and of itself was suspicious. 

On the other hand, I was curious as well. And anything had to be better than going back to hiding in the motor pool or worse - the dorm. Whatever these “sims” were, Eric had to think I could handle them at least to some degree. And if we were going to be doing them soon anyway, well, that made this no different than getting shown how to shoot a few lessons early. 

“Tell me why and I will,” I countered. I raised an eyebrow as well, mimicking his usual pointed expression. 

The ghost of a true smile - not unlike his smile from earlier - flickered in his eyes. “Like I said before, you’ve got the genes for this faction. Your mother? Dauntless. No doubt about it. She might have left to go live in Abnegation, but that woman was born and bred black and red. Rumors still fly about Nat Wright - your mother before she became Natalie Prior,” he explained. “I’m curious to see how you’ll react to the fear sims.”

“What are they though?” I asked. “You keep saying ‘fear sims’ and that doesn’t mean anything to me.” I pantomimed quotation marks to emphasize my point. Will did it all the time and the habit was rubbing off on me. 

“They’re simulations, just like the aptitude test. I sit by the monitor and watch as you confront your deepest, darkest fears. Totally simple,” Eric said. 

I opened my mouth and he cut me off with a wave of his hand. “I don’t know how it works, it just does. The squints up at Erudite have been working on it for years and it does whatever it’s supposed to do,” he admitted. 

“How comforting,” I replied dryly. Still, I had to admit he was piquing my curiosity as well. “You do know I literally spent the past twenty minutes having a panic attack, right?” 

That didn’t seem to concern him. “You were and now you’re fine. Breathing fine and not shaking,” he replied. “So you’re fit for duty. If I didn’t think you could handle it, you would be at the infirmary and I’d be back in my office hiding from parents.”

His insistence didn’t do much to convince me, but equally he apparently wasn’t going to let me go. “So what do I have to do?” I asked. I took a cautious step towards the padded chair, my arms not leaving their tight squeeze. It was a comfort thing, I was woman enough to admit it. 

Eric told me to sit back and pointed out where to put the electrodes on my head. I carefully applied the silicon-textured pads as Eric handed them to me. He wiped each of them down with alcohol pads, the squares of fabric piling up next to him on the desk. Once the probes were set - settled on my temples, my pulse point, and just under my collarbone - he tapped a few more things into the computer.

“Like I said, I don’t know how the squints work it, but basically the sims will put you in the situations that your psyche finds to be the most frightening. Throughout this phase, we’ll figure out what your core fears are and you have to prove you’re Dauntless enough to beat them,” he explained once he was done setting up the program.

I eyed the series of icons displayed on the screen. There had to be hundreds up on the screen, specific fears ready to be projected into the mind of whoever was strapped up in this room. 

I wondered if the tech had existed before the war. I had to imagine if it did, it wasn’t because the military was trying to make people stronger. 

The room felt a lot colder.

I looked back at Eric, swallowing nervously. “So how does one ‘beat’ a simulation? Are they like the dog in the aptitude test? I get a choice of tools and then have to defeat it?” My voice kicked up an octave when I asked.

“Not exactly,” Eric replied. “You’ll see. Either you beat the situation - whatever it is - or you get yourself to calm down to where you’re not being affected by the fear.”

“Sounds super easy,” I bluffed. My hand ran through my hair to hide the slight tremor that was returning. 

Eric smirked. “Atta girl,” he crooned. The blonde rolled his stool to a bank of cabinets I hadn’t noticed built into the wall. He pulled open a few of them and rummaged for… something.

I fiddled with the hem of my tank top, noticing a few loose threads. Fallout from the great kitten battle of half an hour ago. The sound of Eric’s stool moving over the tiled floor made me look up again.

“Hope you’re not scared of needles,” he joked, holding a pneumatic syringe filled with a yellow mixture. “Sit back and just breathe.”

I followed orders. The familiarity from Richards’ words earlier was eerie but not uncomfortable. Eric leaned over. I was so focused on keeping my breathing even and steady that I completely missed what he said next.

“Sorry, what?”

“Can you move your hair? It’s in the way.”

I quickly tugged my hair into a messy ponytail, tucking it over my other shoulder. It was enough of a distraction that I was startled by the sharp bite of the needle as it jabbed my neck. “ _ Fuck _ ,” I growled, rubbing at the stinging skin. “Thanks for the warning.”

My hand came back sticky, my fingertips slick with blood. The world felt off-balance and I staggered in my boots. The pistol in my right hand was too heavy, dragging me over. 

The scrape on my neck hurt. I was lucky it was only a surface wound though. The bullets that were flying through the air could do much worse than a graze. I crouched, hunkering down on my haunches. We had to assess the situation. Things had gone to hell in a handbasket and it was up to our squad to put things right. 

Someone yelled for me to cover them and I scrambled to follow through. The rooftops were a terrible place for a skirmish, yet here we were. I made my way to the edge of the roof I was on, sliding onto my belly to avoid a spray of gunfire. The gravel-topped asphalt scraped at my jacket, irritating but not getting through to the skin. 

“Prior, stay down! That’s an order!” The command sounded weird coming from Peter, but I had to trust him. Didn’t I?

I poked my head up and over the ledge to survey the situation as much as I dared. We were scattered, pinned down behind ancient air conditioning units and vents. I had been… well I wasn’t sure what I had been doing, but clearly it hadn’t been a good plan. Maybe it was Peter’s.

Reports of gunfire sounded again and I heard a blood curdling cry come from where Peter’s voice had boomed from before. We were losing. Badly. I clicked my magazine out - seven shots left, not dire enough to reload yet - and shuffled my feet to be more securely underneath me. My magazine securely in place, I brought the pistol to bear over the ledge, searching out enemies. 

Things went quiet. No shouts from the Dauntless in my squad. No potshots from our foes. 

“Hayes?” I called out. Maybe he had gone quiet because he was getting a radio message. Maybe. The silence that replied didn’t give me much comfort. 

“Drop your weapon, girl,” a voice shouted. It was warped and echoed, bouncing off the abandoned buildings all around us. “You’ve lost.”

I snarled and whirled around, trying to place the source of the commands. I wasn’t going anywhere. If I put my gun down, I was giving up. And that wasn’t very Dauntless. I had a duty to protect the city from invaders like these mercenaries. 

I frowned for a moment, trying to recall what intel had told us about the crew we were hunting down. I expected to remember getting a rundown or a briefing from the Control Room, but I couldn’t summon up the memory.

A scattering of bullets rained down, slamming into the ground by my feet. I practically threw myself over the ledge to avoid them, my free hand the only thing keeping me from falling. “I’m not giving up, you bastards!” I howled. 

“You will if you want your Leader back without another hole in his head. This one isn’t going to be as pretty as the others,” the mottled, contorted voice hissed back. This time though I could place the source. Across the road on an identical rooftop was Eric. Not the Eric I knew though. His scalp was bleeding, the muzzle of a shotgun pressed against his temple. His hands were folded behind his head and he was on his knees. 

He was too far away was my first thought. My second was that this couldn’t be happening. No way would Eric get himself captured by some second rate mercs from outside the wall. I felt my breathing catch and my heartbeat thundered over whatever the mercenaries were shouting now. I saw them more clearly now. They weren’t hiding anymore, standing menacingly around my Leader. 

If they had beaten Eric, they would beat me. The pistol in my hand wouldn’t be enough, not when I had seven shots and they had a shotgun trained on him. I felt a familiar surge of adrenaline-powered fear and mania start to creep into my thoughts. If I let it get the better of me, then we were all doomed. Easier said than done.

I needed my sniper. 

There had to be a drop point nearby, a supply crate with the gear that we needed to send these assholes packing. With a goal in mind, I could actually take that adrenaline and fear and turn it into something constructive. I pushed away from the ledge and scurried over to a vent that I’d passed earlier.  _ There!  _ A black crate unlatched and overflowing with ammunition boxes. The familiar silver silenced muzzle of my training sniper poked out among the black foam and ammo.

That wasn’t there before.

They must have airdropped it in and I didn’t notice it. It didn’t much matter, not when I had only moments before my enemies decided it was time to end things and put two rounds of buckshot through Eric’s skull. The pistol vanished in favor of my rifle, falling by the wayside as I slid a magazine into my new weapon. Another rain of gunfire prompted me to leave my new hiding place, driving me to another corner of the roof. A bubble of hysterical laughter surged through me. There was no way this was going to work.

The scope was up at my eye before I finished skittering to a stop, eyeing the woman with her shotgun trained on Eric. I didn’t even think, moving through the motions automatically. Squeeze the trigger, let the recoil snap through, adjust to a new target, rinse and repeat. 

Sweat dripped from my forehead and my heat-flushed skin was fogging up the scope. I had to stop and rub the condensation out with my finger, wasting precious seconds. In that time, I heard shouts for the mercs to regroup. Someone yelled for Eric to get brought back under control and I felt my heart skip a beat. He was still alive and kicking. 

When I looked through the scope again, I had to take a deep breath to calm down. Eric was practically on top of a merc, slamming her head into the concrete rooftop repeatedly. Three others rushed to pull him off her. I didn’t trust myself to be able to hit them, not when my shoulders were shaking from the worry that was rushing through me. 

I took down the woman that was on the ground, two shots through her neck and shoulder putting her completely into the not-a-threat category. Eric’s howl of rage brought my attention back to him and I had to make the decision.

I could either take the shots or not. If I didn’t, I was certain that Eric would be dead within seconds. I’d rather at least try than live with the knowledge that I could have saved him. 

Making the decision gave me the last bit of courage that I needed. I squinted through the scope and squeezed off three tight, quick shots. When the last mercenary fell - blood puffing out of their head in a tiny cloud - I brought the scope back to Eric.

He’d fallen to his hands and knees, sucking in quick breaths. But he was whole, for the most part. Through the scope I watched his head snap up, searching across the way. When he locked eyes with me, he managed a quick salute, two fingers touching his temple. His fingers - the parts not covered by his fingerless gloves - were covered in blood and what probably was brain matter. My doing.

He was alive.

I let my arms collapse and the rifle to fall into my lap. I could feel my arms shaking and my chest heaving, though I watched myself sitting perfectly still. My pulse raced even as I pressed a perfectly calm pair of fingers to my wrists. 

This… this wasn’t real.

My eyes - my  _ real _ , honest to god eyes - opened up and I lurched in the padded chair. “What kind of… egotistical power play was that?” I snarled. I remembered everything all of a sudden, my conversation with Eric and the decision to go along with his experiment. I hadn’t been ordered on a task force to root out mercenaries. I’d just let Eric shoot me up with Erudite nonsense.

I actually  _ was _ shaking and I was breathless to the point where I practically expected to just crash into another round of hyperventilation. Eric, on the other hand, looked… confused. “Are you okay? You’re awake already?” he asked. His hands hovered awkwardly over the keyboard, mid keystroke by the looks of it.

Even as my body tried to shake itself apart, I just stared at him. Here I was, a veritable mess, and he just looked dumbfounded. “Already? I spent like ten minutes in that sim getting shot at and saving your sorry hide,” I snarled. The world threatened to collapse in again and I cradled my head in my hands. 

The tears were a surprise, an unwanted addition to an already messy reaction. I sniffed and rubbed away the streaks that rushed down my cheeks. More just joined the fray and I gave up trying to wipe them away. “Why did you put yourself there? What kind of sick freak  _ are _ you?” I said between shaky sobs. It was like Al all over again. The floodgates were open - literally - and I couldn’t stop the words.

“It’s one thing to make me fight for my life, that’s a totally normal thing for this faction and for this godforsaken initiation. It’s total bullshit to make me freak out and get all, well,  _ this _ because you put yourself in danger in my head.”

I stopped paying attention to what he was doing. My focus was on just breathing and letting the sobs out as quietly as possible. Crying in front of someone else was selfish. I had to be making Eric uncomfortable.

I didn’t care. 

The more I stared at my knees and the more that I heard my own voice, the clearer things got. I could almost feel the fear and the shakiness leaving me with every breath I took. “I figured it out, though,” I crowed once I was able to speak without sobbing between the words. “Got a weapon. Beat the raiders. So suck on that, sim.”

Eric’s wheely stool squeaked. He’d stood up, I think. “Tris, Can I… god, you’re still crying. I’m just going to touch your back, okay?”

I think I nodded.

A warm palm gently settled on my shoulders. He didn’t apologize. He just let his hand sit there, a comfortable weight on my heaving back. 

After about another minute of choked back cries, I wiped away the last of my tears. I turned my head to look at him. “So I must be a pretty shitty Dauntless,” I whispered. “Breaking down like this.”

The blonde shook his head once. “You’ve been through a lot today. And it was your first time in the sims,” Eric replied honestly. 

I cleared my throat and settled back into the chair. He removed his hand quickly and just stood there for a moment, his eyes flickering back and forth between my eyes and my lip that I was chewing slightly. 

“It felt like forever,” I admitted. “Like it was a real battle and we’d been there for ages.” I didn’t like thinking about how long I must have been out under the effects of the serum he’d injected into me.

Eric’s expression didn’t change and I recognized his carefully controlled face. He was trying not to give anything away. “You were only under for four minutes twelve seconds,” he corrected gently. “Not ten.”

“And that’s… bad?” 

“That depends,” he evaded, turning back to the computer. He was avoiding the question and I needed to know why. I was too tired physically and emotionally to put up with the whole enigma charade.

“Is four minutes short or long?” Maybe I just needed to ask my question differently. Attack the situation from another angle. 

Eric pulled up a document on the computer and looked it over quickly, eyes scanning for something. “Extremely short for a first runthrough. Most first timers are lucky if they hit ten minutes instead of fifteen,” he murmured, still reading the screen.

“Okay but why did it feel so long if it only was a few minutes? Is that normal?” I pressed. He was still hiding something. 

He looked up from the computer for a moment to flash me a wry smile. “I mean, time is relative, so they say,” he teased. I crossed my arms and let loose the most deadpan expression I could summon up. He didn’t seem phased and the blonde asshole was back to the computer screen. He clicked over to yet another document and started looking through it with the same militant speed and precision. 

“It feels like a while because the serum does something to off-balance the memory centers in your brain. The idea is that you don’t remember being put into the sim so that you can react to the situation as organically as possible. Most of the time it works,” he explained. “That’s pretty much all I know about it. If you want to know what chemicals are doing what, you’ll need to take it up with Erudite.”

I frowned, thinking back to what it had felt like to be in the sim. I’d been entirely convinced that I was on a squad assignment the entire time. The situation was dire and I was reacting to it. But at the same rate, things felt  _ off _ . “I tried to remember getting a sit report and I couldn’t,” I said, thinking out loud. 

“You didn’t have an actual memory to fall back on for the sim to conjure up. And neither does the sim. There’s just the current situation. It’s not a perfect system,” he replied. That made sense, I reasoned, but it didn’t account for the other uncanny sensations I felt during the sim. Eric apparently found whatever information he was looking for and he closed down the computer program in a few quick keystrokes.

He returned to the rolling stool, perched just inches from the chair I was sitting in. “Tell me exactly what happened in the sim. Everything,” he ordered. “Please.” It was an afterthought, but it at least softened his harsh tone.

I jutted my chin at the computer he’d been so fascinated with. “Doesn’t that tell you everything? I mean, it made everything happen,” I asked. Now that I had calmed down, I was regretting yelling at him for the sim. It felt weird to admit that he’d been in trouble in the sim, nevermind the fact that I reacted so terribly when it happened.

“It’s just telemetry and the general situation. The later tests are more precise, but we don’t want to waste the nanite serum on basic fear exposure training,” he explained. “And even if it did tell us everything, you’re dodging the question.” Eric pointed a finger at me, maintaining his smug demeanor.

“I tell you what happened and then I get to go back to the dorms?”

“Wherever you want to go,” he promised.

I sighed and closed my eyes, shutting out the room and Eric’s too-intent eyes. I recounted the situation as quickly as possible, grazing over my reactions as clinically as possible. He barely seemed to notice the omission. When I finished talking, the room stayed quiet for a long pause.

Then, Eric asked one single question. “Where did the sniper come from?”

“The airdrop. It was in the crate with fresh ammo.”

“And where did that come from?”

I threw my hands up in the air. “I don’t know. You said it yourself that the situation doesn’t give me a memory of how stuff got there,” I insisted. 

“Tris, look at me,” he asked. It wasn’t an order, wasn’t demanding. The sheer foreignness of his tone made me open my eyes more so than the actual request. 

He was sitting as far forward on the stool as he possibly could, his hands folded tightly. For once, his face was a complete open book. I could see wonder, curiosity, and just the slightest flash of fear in his eyes. “The sim can’t make you remember how the box got there because the sim never put the box there,” he murmured. 

“Of course it did,” I replied sharply. Of course the sim put the crate there. I was certain of it, right?

My stomach turned, nausea taking right over now that the fear had dissipated. 

“The sim put the box there because otherwise there was no way to get the mercs who had you captive,” I insisted again. 

Eric swallowed and shook his head. “The sim doesn’t give out tools. You work with what you have,” he said simply. 

My fingers curled tight around the armrest of the chair. “If the sim didn’t make the airdrop happen, where did it come from?” There was an answer lurking in the back of my mind that I was far, far too worried would be correct.

Eric looked over his shoulder, back at the computer with the now-closed files. A screensaver bobbed its way across the monitor, Dauntless flames careening into walls and rebounding to do the same against another side of the screen. “Tris, I’m going to ask you a question and you’re going to think nice and long about your answer before you give it,” he said, avoiding my question entirely.

“Can I just go back to the dorms instead?” I whispered. My nails dug into the armrests, crescents cutting into the soft vinyl. 

“Did you get Dauntless on your Aptitude test?” Eric’s voice was cool, quiet.

My mind went right back to that day, to Tori’s agonized expression as she shoved me through the back door. She’d tried to protect me and it was all for nothing. I’d been a fool to leave Abnegation, to leave the faction that would have asked no questions and let me live my life under a Leadership that was so focused on helping others they didn’t dare look at their own people. 

“Tris, answer me.” My eyes had closed again. I didn’t want to look at the terrifying Leader, the embodiment of Dauntless itself who was currently just as scared as I was.

“Did you get Dauntless or did you get Erudite?”

I peeled my eyes open and stared at the ceiling tiles above me. They were black. Of course they were. Eric asked once more, this time his hand coming up to just barely touch the side of my arm. I couldn’t avoid it. He’d figured it out.

“Both,” I whispered. It was too much to say any louder. Saying it aloud meant it was true and saying it loud meant that others could hear, would know that I was something  _ else. _ Something  _ other _ . “Dauntless, Erudite, and Abnegation.”

Eric swore, standing up from the stool in a flurry of motion that startled me. He kicked the metal seat and stormed away from where I was sitting to glare intensely at the wall of cabinets. “Shit, shit, motherfucking shit,” he growled under his breath. His shoulders were tense and his hands were balled up in fists so tight his knuckles were white. 

“Sorry,” I murmured. It was the only thing I could think to say. A reflex. It was my fault, after all. My fault that I had come here with my Divergent head and my rebel attitude. 

He rested his head against the cabinets and lifted up a single finger. “I swear to any god that’s out there, if you apologize for this, I will kick your ass into next year,” he growled. “You’re not in Abnegation. You’re never going to be Abnegation again.”

I don’t know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t for Eric to turn around and march right back to where he had been sitting a moment ago, saying, “Answer me this one thing, Prior. Last question for today.” He tried to regain his composure from earlier, but the blonde was still too worked up to pull off unaffected.

“Do you actually want to be here, in Dauntless? When you sliced your hand and bled onto the coals like every other member here, did you mean it? Or were you just following some whim to see what it would be like to get tattoos and free climb buildings?”

His question cut deep, straight to the heart of the issue. No bullshitting around wondering what I thought I was out of my three aptitudes. It deserved a straightforward answer.

“I belong here. I don’t want to be anywhere else but here,” I asserted. “It’d take a hell of a lot more than a stupid aptitude test to take that away from me.”

Eric exhaled, the tension in his entire body leaving in a single instance. He closed his eyes for a moment, maybe thinking, maybe regretting ever bringing me up to the sim lab. I swung my legs over and pushed myself onto my feet. I felt strong, resolute as I looked up to meet the eyes of the Leader who I respected and feared the most.

“It’s not all just war games and simulations,” he warned. His gaze was hypnotic, electric. Our eyes were locked into each others with a magnetism that was alarming how strong it was. “You’ll be pushed to the breaking point more times than you’ll be able to count and that’s just for the training after initiation. Never mind anything you may end up doing if you go for Leadership - in any regard, not just being a faction Leader.”

I felt my feet stepping in to close the gap between myself and Eric. “Are you ready to commit to all of that while pretending you’re not what every narrow-minded fearmongering Erudite Leader wants put to death?” 

What he was saying should have terrified me. I should have wanted to turn tail and run out of that room without a second glance. Except, I was done being scared. I was  _ done _ being the scared little Abnegation girl who froze up when confronted with what scared her. 

“I was born ready,” I growled.

“Prove it,” Eric purred in response. 

My heartbeat thrummed in my ears, thundering through my veins with enough power to shake my hands. Yet I still could feel the softness of Eric’s skin and bristles of his buzzed-short hair as I cradled the back of his head to bring his lips down to mine. I kissed him deeply, throwing myself into the abyss that was my fears and hesitations. If I hesitated, I would falter. 

His hands cupped my neck and the small of my back, making me gasp quickly against him before he recaptured my lips in another kiss. There was no room for fear here, for discomfort. Eric’s hands were warm, not demanding or grabbing at my body. I could sink into his embrace without worry.

Eric matched my pace eagerly, humming quietly as I raked my hand through his hair. I’ll admit it was something I’d daydreamed about once or twice, but the daydream had nothing on the actual thing. “Never stop,” he murmured against my lips, his own motions slowing as I grazed my nails experimentally against his scalp. 

I stole a few more slow, deep kisses before breaking off the exchange. Eric rested his forehead against mine, both hands now settled comfortably on my hips. “You know, I had a fifty-fifty chance going in my head that you were either going to kiss me or punch me,” he chuckled. “I have to admit, I’m happy it worked out in the way that didn’t put my dermals in danger.” 

“I had a similar fear,” I breathed, laughing along with him. He wasn’t looking at my eyes, his gaze intent on my lips instead. 

After a quiet moment, I wiggled out from his grip. Eric didn’t resist, letting his hands trail from my sides to return to his pockets. I chewed on my lip and looked over his shoulder. “So,” I started before trailing back into silence.

“So,” he parroted back. 

“You’re not going to report me to... whoever?” I asked. I was pretty certain he wasn’t going to, but I had to be certain. 

The blonde shook his head, a smile crossing his lips. “Not a chance. I’m team Prior,” he teased. “I couldn’t care less if you’re Divergent or resurgent or whatever word they come up with next. You’ve got the stones to be here and you’re resourceful. That’s everything a good Dauntless needs.”

He winked at me before walking over to the door. “And you’re not a half bad kisser.”

My face went pure red, I’m certain. Still, I summoned up the courage to follow him out. He locked the door with the swipe of a card - the plastic square disappearing into the vast unknowns of his vest - and gave me one last look. 

I shook my head and held up a finger. “Nu-uh,” I interrupted whatever he was going to say. He got the parting shot too often for my liking. “You say anything about this and I’ll tell Richards that you purr louder than his cat when you get scratched behind your ears.”

Red looked good on him.


End file.
